now weekend, dumb fuzz head from far too much sleep, slept it for a long time today. Stagger about a bit, untill this mass of flesh and bone has reattained an acceptable functionality, untill the mental systems have gained sufficient acuity to make the decision as to what is to be done next. This is the same as every day, but during the working week a routine has set in, an automatic procedure, which just runs like a machine between five and six in the morning. It can be watched, but that is all.
It is now seven fifty nine, that is much later. Coffee has been made, the computer has been checked, and the son has been spoken to. He is playing with his friend, his friend is just an online prescence.
The bells sound outside, it is eight in the morning.
The red headed long haired son has not combed the hair hanging down over his back, it is a tangled mess. But this does not matter to him, he is engrossed in his game, chasing around in a fantasy world in a machine.
He will need to wake up today at some stage, and return to a real world of bad weather and homework
Work was long in the past week, and every evening small progress was made with Babbling Portugese. The journey home is long, and an hour a day attending a mechanised language course is worthwhile. It may never be enough to really understand the poetry in the language, but it may do to appreciate the sound of the words. A small maturity.
But this morning will continue, leave the house, walk, and do a few of the chores pushed ahead for the weekend.
Roll the stone up the hill a short way, and hope that it does not roll all the way back again.
It is now seven fifty nine, that is much later. Coffee has been made, the computer has been checked, and the son has been spoken to. He is playing with his friend, his friend is just an online prescence.
The bells sound outside, it is eight in the morning.
The red headed long haired son has not combed the hair hanging down over his back, it is a tangled mess. But this does not matter to him, he is engrossed in his game, chasing around in a fantasy world in a machine.
He will need to wake up today at some stage, and return to a real world of bad weather and homework
Work was long in the past week, and every evening small progress was made with Babbling Portugese. The journey home is long, and an hour a day attending a mechanised language course is worthwhile. It may never be enough to really understand the poetry in the language, but it may do to appreciate the sound of the words. A small maturity.
But this morning will continue, leave the house, walk, and do a few of the chores pushed ahead for the weekend.
Roll the stone up the hill a short way, and hope that it does not roll all the way back again.
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